The Return of the Medjai
by Jedi Buttercup
Summary: The thing was, his name wasn't actually Ardeth Bey. Not in this lifetime.
1. Return of the Medjai

**Title**: The Return of the Medjai 

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine, the worlds are not.

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: ST:TNG/The Mummy. Data attempts to understand the human fascination with the past. 1500 words.

**Spoilers**: General Star Trek: Next Generation and "The Mummy Returns" (2001)

**Notes**: For jilltanith, who requested ST:TNG/The Mummy, "Data, Rick & Evie or Ardeth; no holodeck; reincarnation". Ended up being set in the future of my "Adventures of Rome" storyline, though knowledge of that fic is not necessary; all you need to know is that the events of TMR have made R&E immortal in this 'verse.

* * *

Data stood in front of an exhibit featuring several samples of early Egyptian hieroglyphic writing. He had heard it said that artwork must be seen in person to be truly appreciated, but so far, he had not detected any measurable difference in appearance between the duplicate artifacts he had created on the holodeck as a test prior to visiting the Jonathan Carnahan Memorial Museum in Cairo and the artifacts actually present in the museum.

The museum itself was not an old one; it had been constructed less than a century prior to honor a twentieth-century archaeologist and scholar whose work had not been well regarded in life. It did, however, contain many artifacts of great antiquity, donated by a tribal people called the Medjai who still maintained anomalous pockets of pre-industrial culture in several desert habitats on Earth. Captain Picard had received word that an exhibition of artifacts that had never before been shown to the public would be on display while the Enterprise-D was in dock. He had invited Data to accompany him in order that the android might further observe the human fascination with preserving and glorifying the past.

Upon arrival at the museum, the captain had made an appointment with the museum curator and advised that Data make his own way through the exhibits. Thus, for the past 2.63991 hours, Data had been meticulously inspecting each object on display in turn, comparing them against the images extant in his positronic memory banks. No anomalies had yet presented themselves, but 21.765 of the museum's contents yet remained to be examined.

He left the display of hieroglyphic writing and proceeded into the next hall, in which was displayed many artifacts linked to the semimythical Scorpion King. The details of the reign of that early ruler were still a topic of debate among Earth historians, due to a dearth of artifacts dated to his reign; many of the objects recently placed on display in that hall were already being used as the basis of new theories on the subject.

In the center of the hall, a heavy golden bracelet lay on display atop a solitary support pillar, surrounded by the barely visible shimmer of an active security field. A stylized scorpion shape had been affixed to the band of the bracelet, its pincers facing away from the wearer and its tail extending up behind the band in a golden curl.

Data approached the pillar slowly, contemplating the bracelet and its possible purpose. Had it been intended as a decorative piece of armor? Or as jewelry? Its size indicated that it had indeed been intended for a masculine arm, yet it--

--Data blinked, suddenly, as his positronic brain reset itself. In the corner of his peripheral vision, he could still see the pillar in front of which his memory insisted he had been standing mere fractions of a second before; the angle of the view suggested that he was sprawled upon the floor, and the absence of the previously observed force field suggested that a power-related anomaly had taken both he and the display down at the same time. The presence of additional voices in the hall further suggested that criminal activity was involved. Data continued to lie completely still as he endeavored to assess what was taking place around him.

"...Just an android," a masculine voice protested. "I'm sure he has all kinds of back-up systems; he'll be fine once someone finds him and resets him."

"I still don't like it," a clearly feminine voice replied, her voice slightly distorted in the pattern Data associated with human frustration. "This was supposed to be quick and clean; the sensors reported no life in here!"

"Evie, just chill," the masculine voice said again, and a pair of muscular legs clad in denim appeared within Data's range of vision. A shadow fell over him momentarily as the man's torso blocked the light, then a sparkle of gold became visible far above him as the intruder drew back again. "Is this it?" the man asked.

A second pair of legs, smaller in diameter but similarly clad, appeared next to the man's. There was a brief pause, then the feminine voice uttered softly, "It's the real thing." The stressors in her voice faded into perceptible relief.

"Good," the male grunted. "Hundreds of years they spend guarding this thing, and then they put it out for public view? The Scorpion King might not regenerate again until the year sixty-nine hundred and thirty-three, but there's plenty else a determined bad guy could do with Anubis' bracelet in the meantime. Especially in this day and age."

"As you would, no doubt, be aware due to your own nefarious plans," a third, unexpected voice declaimed from somewhere behind Data. The vocal patterns matched those of the museum's curator, a man of ethnic Medjai descent whom Data had observed with Captain Picard upon their arrival. "Drop the bracelet and step away from Lieutenant Commander Data."

"Hey, buddy, I'm not planning... any... shit. Uh, Evie?" The male thief's voice wavered uncertainly.

The woman gasped. "I see him too, Rick," she said.

Data's internal diagnostics completed their checks of his system in that moment, and informed him that he had completely recovered from the shock that had taken him down. A fraction of a second later he had leapt to his feet, determined to take advantage of the moment of the thieves' distraction. The male proved to be tall, with blue eyes and a face that did not match those of any known Earth criminals in Data's mental database; the female had dark hair and eyes, and was equally unidentifiable. He grasped each of them by the front of their shirts, then lifted, his inhuman strength making the task a simple one. One of the pair dropped a golden, flashing object that resolved itself in Data's visual circuits as the scorpion-adorned bracelet; the other dropped a small object of indeterminate function that resembled a tricorder.

"I suggest, sir, that you reclaim the bracelet and summon the authorities," Data said, addressing the curator as the man moved into his field of vision. "I will detain the thieves until they arrive."

"That's not... necessary..." the male thief said, his voice half-strangled by the twisting of his tunic collar about his throat. "Ardeth! It's... me, Rick. O'Connell. The, uh." He coughed, his face reddening, but doggedly continued. "If I said... to you... that I was a stranger... traveling from the west... seeking that which is lost..."

The curator froze in place, an expression that Data tentatively identified as dismay quickly contorting his tattooed features. "Then I would say to you I am a stranger traveling from the East," he replied in a wondering tone. "It is I whom you seek... What do these words mean?"

"Oh my God," the female thief said softly. As Data watched, a drop of wetness escaped from her right eye to trace a path down her cheek. "It _is_ you. Ardeth!"

Mystified by the humans' behavior, Data lowered the thieves again until their feet touched the ground. The curator approached them, his expression wondering as he gazed between their faces.

"I-- you seem so familiar to me," the curator stated, wondering. "And why is it that I no longer feel outraged at your attempt to steal the Bracelet of Anubis?"

"Because she's the reincarnation of Princess Nefertiri, whose task is to protect it," the one called Rick said, quietly. "I'm her personal guard. And you--" He paused as a notable huskiness began to distort his voice. Neither he nor the female, Evie, were paying any attention to Data as the android continued to restrain them; it was most confusing.

"You first met us in the nineteen twenties, by the old Gregorian calendar," the female thief continued. "I never-- we never thought we'd see you again. But it makes sense; if I can be brought back when I'm needed--"

"I do not understand," the curator broke in, shaking his head. "But I feel that you speak the truth." He looked past them then, to Data, and addressed the android calmly. "You may release them on my recognizance; I will take care of matters here. Please return to your captain; he is at the front entrance of the museum awaiting the completion of your tour."

"Sir, I feel that I must remind you that these persons have assaulted a Starfleet officer and attempted to steal a valuable artifact from this museum," Data objected, as perplexed as a computer-driven entity could be at the incomprehensible nature of the conversation that had just occurred.

"And I shall take full responsibility for their actions," the man replied, firmly. "Please."

Data released his grip on the thieves' clothing, and they both stumbled before moving to place themselves behind the curator.

Humans, Data thought, as he turned to follow the man's directives and locate Captain Picard. The museum visit had been a failure all around; he feared he was doomed never to understand them.

--


	2. A Remarkable Resemblance

**Title**: A Remarkable Resemblance

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: PG/K+

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not.

**Summary**: _The thing was, his name wasn't actually Ardeth Bey. Not in this lifetime_. 1500 words.

**Spoilers**: Mummy Returns (2001); set in ST:TNG timeline

**Notes**: For jilltanith, who once requested a 'drabble' on the theme, "Why was Ardeth needed in "Return of the Medjai"? This is... more like a suggestion? Set in my "Adventures in Rome" 'verse, which also includes "Death is Only The Beginning".

* * *

The thing was, his name wasn't actually Ardeth Bey. Not in this lifetime.

Of all the things he could have fixated on about their unexpected meeting, Rick was aware that his brother's new _name_ was pretty low on the totem pole of importance. There was the fact that Rick and Evie had just been caught trying to 'repossess' the Bracelet of Anubis from a Medjai-run museum. Or the fact that it had been better than four hundred _years_ since they'd seen him last, and even by the standards of the Medjai their story was pretty unbelievable. And then there was the question of why Ardeth, and why _now_? All of those were pretty significant things to worry about.

But no- the thing that was bothering Rick O'Connell the _most_ was written in flowing Arabic script on an elegant brass nameplate: خالد. Khalid. Not Ardeth, and apparently _not_ the leader of the Twelve Tribes in this century either, given his less dramatic facial tattoos.

It was weird. Of _course_ Ardeth's name would be different this time around. It was just- they'd shared grandchildren once upon a time, and a father a lifetime before that. It made him wonder what his own name would have been, now, if he'd lived a normal lifespan back then. If he'd still have found Evie; if he'd still have stood at Ardeth's side; if they'd have all grown up together, for once. He knew it was kind of ridiculous to be jealous of a version of him that had never even existed, but then, he'd never been all that rational when it came to the hand of the gods moving in their lives.

Rick shook his head and turned away from his fascinated study of Ardeth's face, a little embarrassed, and glanced over at his wife. Ardeth- no, _Khalid_- had brought them into his private office; irony of ironies, he was actually the curator of the Jonathan Carnahan Memorial Museum. The desk was a huge wooden monster, not one of the modern computer-top glass and plasteel contraptions, and the chairs placed around it matched; Evie made hers look almost like a throne, spine straight and more than a little Nefertiri in the tilt of her chin. She tended to get a little aggressive when she was nervous.

He held out a hand to her, and relaxed a little as she reached back to lace her fingers with his. She didn't so much as glance away from their host, but she smiled a little, and Khalid smiled back at the gesture.

"So," their reincarnated friend said, finally opening the conversation. "You say you knew me a lifetime ago. That you are the Princess Nefertiri and her bodyguard, appointed protectors of the Bracelet of Anubis, and that is why you have invaded my museum." He gestured toward the sculpted golden armband glittering in false innocence on the desktop.

Rick winced. "Uh, she's the protector, actually; I'm just- hers. And, yeah, I know how that sounds."

"It is difficult to believe, certainly," Khalid said, steepling his fingers over the retrieved item, elbows resting on the mirror-polished wood. "I've seen the photographs on display in the Carnahan room; and now that the situation is less immediate, I must admit that could easily be the source of my... sense of familiarity. The resemblances are truly remarkable. And I realize my face is also not unique in the history of my people. But thieves educated enough to have targeted the Bracelet might easily have planned to take advantage of those likenesses."

So he _did_ know the stories; though Rick wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. He was much more composed, too, than he'd been when he'd first confronted them. Rick tugged at the collar of his shirt, remembering the pressure of twisted fabric against his windpipe, and wondered if they might have been better off letting the Starfleet android take them into custody.

They'd have been freed soon enough; given the difficulties they'd had maintaining their identities in the years since the Third World War, they'd ended up working for Federation Security half the time, trading privacy for chasing down aspects of 'fairytales and hokum' that could be passed off as advanced technology or alien evolution. Starfleet still wouldn't be able to handle something like the mess at Ahm Shere or an Old One, but in the bigger picture? IDIC- and phasers- had been really handy developments.

They had been part of the inner circle of the Medjai once, but several centuries had passed since they'd stayed among the Tribes for more than a brief visit, and from the outside the desert warriors almost looked like any other regressive pocket of culture these days. They'd wondered more than once if they should have stayed, especially since they'd seen the notice about the Scorpion King exhibit- seriously, what the hell would inspire them to take that risk, if they _knew_ what those artefacts were capable of?- but destined and sort-of-immortal Medjai or not, Rick hardly _looked_ the part. It had been a lot easier for him and Evie to blend in and keep busy once the magical link tying their longevity to Egyptian soil had been broken.

Besides, in all those years, nothing like this had happened, not once. It was as though the old gods had specifically brought back a select group of Seti's court to deal with the Scorpion King, trusting that at least one would survive to deal with Anubis' former champion, then just- let them all go afterward. The only reincarnated human Rick and Evie had met since Ahm Shere's collapse had been a rather specific case, a young woman with a history almost as dramatic as Imhotep's. They'd never seen either of their brothers again, not in four centuries of waiting; Rick had almost given up hoping for it to happen.

"So what would convince you?" Evie asked, softly.

Khalid eyed them both again, forehead wrinkling up in thoughtful concern. There were things about him that Rick didn't recognize- his wardrobe had been updated from Ardeth's layered desert robes, for one thing, though it was still mostly all silver and black; his hair was much shorter; and he wasn't carrying a sword- but he had a lot of the same mannerisms. And he had the same presence: that intensity and effortless aura of leadership that had struck Rick the first time they'd met in Hamunaptra.

No, the second first time. The first time in that lifetime? Reincarnation was hell on the vocabulary.

"It isn't that I _need_ convincing," Khalid said, after a long moment, his mouth drawn to an unhappy line. "It's that I _don't_, and I am having difficulty articulating the reasons why."

"Trying to play devil's advocate," Rick tipped him a nod.

"Yes." Khalid sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I will have to speak with the elders on this matter, to confirm. But in the meantime- you said that you believed I might have been brought back because I was _needed_?"

"It certainly seems likely," Evie replied. "We have yet to encounter someone we knew to have had a past life who did not also have a significant destiny in their new one."

"Though what that might be..." Rick shrugged. "The only thing both our previous lives had in common, that I know of, is each other- and Imhotep. But we finally sorted the old mummy out for good a few centuries ago; there's nothing left for him here."

"Except..." Evie said suddenly, grip tightening painfully on his hand.

"Evie?" Rick turned to her, startled.

She wasn't actually looking at him, though, _or_ Khalid; she was gazing out the high-arched windows behind the desk, overlooking the front entrance of the museum. A young woman in black pants and a dark shirt with open chain-patterned side seams was striding confidently up the walk; her hair was dark and straight, and her features the kind of proud, high cheekboned beauty that could cut the unwary admirer like a knife.

"It's her," Evie breathed.

"Anck-su-namun," Rick said, stunned. With _pointy Vulcan ears_. He'd recognize the poisonous ex-concubine anywhere, though he hadn't seen her since she'd abandoned Imhotep in a crumbling pyramid in Ahm Shere four hundred years ago. That had turned out good for the ol' High Priest, much as it stuck in Rick's craw to admit; but he'd never given the other half of that sturm und drang relationship a second thought. That... might have been an oversight.

"But that is my assistant, T'Ayda," Khalid said, perplexed, as he followed their gaze to the window. There was a certain amount of softening in his expression as he looked at her- and Rick gave Evie a wild, wide-eyed look as the implications of _that_ played out in his thoughts.

Yet another attempt to take over the world? Or- something a little more dramatic?

Whichever it was, he thought as his wife gaped back, they were definitely going to have to stick around to find out.

-x-


End file.
